Sick Day
by writeallnight
Summary: There's nothing worse than being sick. Especially when you're on a case. Fortunately Deeks has a partner who's ready to help nurse him back to health.


A/N: I've been kicking this one around for awhile land finally managed to finish it thanks to the Densi-mber event happening on tumblr. The prompt was "Kensi or Deeks gets the flu (or other illness). This is a throwback, taking place sometime before the Descent/Ascension plot. Enjoy!

* * *

"Morning!" Sam said as he dropped his bag on the floor.

"Morning," Callen and Kensi echoed.

Sam looked at Deeks' empty seat. "And where is our resident class clown this morning?" he asked.

"Don't know," Callen told him, leaning back in his chair. "Haven't heard a peep. Kensi?"

She looked up from her paperwork. "Why would I know?"

"Because you should always know where Deeks is," Sam pointed out. "You're his partner."

"Yeah, I always know where Sam is," Callen added. "Right where Michelle wants him to be."

"Haha very funny," Sam glared at his partner. "Seriously though, where is he?"

"Probably just running late," Kensi told them. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

A shrill whistle split the air. "We've got a case!" Eric called from the balcony.

"The LAPD has received word that a very large shipment of heroin is about to hit the streets of Los Angeles. Not only would this be detrimental to thousands of lives, it also has the potential to cause gang conflict the likes of which we have never seen," Hetty told them as they stood in Ops.

"The drugs could be coming by air or sea. LAPD has asked for our help. They feel like they're a little out of their league," Granger added. "Speaking of which, where is our resident Liaison?"

All eyes turned to Kensi who held up her hands defensively. "I'm not his babysitter."

There was a moment of awkward silence. "O-kay," Nell said, pulling up images on the screens. "Our three main suspects: Jose Mendoza, Enrique Delgado, and Tomás Alvarez. All three top commanders in the cartel. Any one of them could be meeting the shipment."

"We've got BOLO's out on all three," Eric said.

"Great, where do we start?" Kensi asked.

The doors to Ops slid open to reveal Deeks looking distinctly more disheveled than usual. There were dark circles under his eyes and he moved slowly as he walked into the room. "What'd I miss?" he asked.

"So good of you to join us Mr. Deeks," Hetty told him.

"Are you sick?" Sam asked.

"Me? Sick? No," Deeks said. "I don't get sick."

His pale and sweaty face seemed to indicate otherwise.

"Sam and I will go interview our resident snitch," Callen told them. "Kensi you and…the plague over there can go talk to Tomás' girlfriend."

"I'm not sick!" Deeks called as they headed out the door.

"If you're sick you should go home," Kensi said as she drove. "None of us want your germs."

"I'm not sick," Deeks protested.

Kensi winced and rolled down his window. "Breathe that way."

"You know it's cruel to make fun of the critically ill," he told her, resting his head against the seat.

"I thought you weren't sick."

"I'm not. But if you think I am you should be nice to me."

Kensi rolled her eyes. "You're pathetic."

"And yet, still so adorable," Deeks told her with a grin.

Kensi stopped the car. "We're here."

Deeks reached for the door handle.

"You are lysoling my car when we get back," Kensi said as they walked up the front steps and knocked on the door.

"I'm not sick!"

"You look sick."

The door opened to reveal a young woman, eyes wary. "Yeah?"

"NCIS," Kensi flashed her badge. "Are you Jessica Green?"

"NC who?"

"Jessica, I'm LAPD detective Marty Deeks," Deeks tried. "We need to ask you a few questions."

"I didn't do anything," the girl said nervously.

"We know. Can we come inside?" Kensi asked.

"I—" she looked like she was about to slam the door in their faces.

"It'll only take a minute," Deeks assured her, flashing a smile. "You're not in trouble."

She stepped back allowing them entry to the small home. The front door opened onto the living area and Deeks could see a small kitchen through an archway on the opposite side of the room. The house was sparsely furnished and what little furniture there was looked used and threadbare.

Jessica took a seat on a faded couch, her eyes wide with fear. "I didn't do anything."

"How long have you and Tomás been dating?" Kensi asked.

"Six months," the young woman replied. "What's this about?"

"How well do you know him?" Deeks tried.

"He's my boyfriend," she said, like it answered the question. "What's going on? Is he all right?"

"We have reason to believe he's been smuggling drugs into the United States," Kensi told her.

"What? Tom? No," she shook her head. "That's crazy."

"Is it?" Deeks' voice cracked and he swallowed several times, clearing his throat loudly. "Uh, sorry. Think about it. Is he always honest with you?"

"Of course." Her eyes turned hard. "I think you should go."

"Can I just use your restroom?" Deeks asked.

She glared at him and pointed to the left of the kitchen.

"Thanks," Deeks caught his partner's eye before exiting the room, knowing that she would do her best to get more information while he was away.

The bathroom was tiny, but clean. Deeks closed the door behind him and braced himself against the sink. He stared at his pale reflection and felt his stomach turn unpleasantly. He clenched his jaw and turned on the tap, allowing water to fill his palms, splashing it onto his face.

Everything seemed fuzzy today, just out of his reach. Maybe he _was_ sick.

Even if he was, they still had a case to work. He took a breath and let himself out of the bathroom.

"If you think of anything you have my number," Kensi was saying as he rejoined them in the living room. "Give me a call."

"Sure," Jessica said in a voice that indicated she definitely would not.

They left and walked back to the car. "She was a steel trap while you were in the bathroom," Kensi told him. "We'll have to keep an eye on her." She waited for a response and received none. "Deeks?"

"Hm?" He rubbed at his temple. "Yeah sure."

Kensi frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"You don't look good."

"Well isn't that a way to make a guy feel great," he quipped, even as he swallowed and felt his insides twist.

"Deeks, I'm serious," Kensi said, actual concern showing on her face but suddenly a car came flying around the corner, nearly taking off the front end of Kensi's vehicle. "Whoa!" she said. "What was that?"

"Either somebody's got a kidney in their back seat or they're running from the law." Deeks craned his neck to see where the car had gone.

A police car came screaming around the corner followed by two more seconds later. "Do they look like they're headed for Jessica's house?" Kensi asked.

"Yeah…" Deeks said slowly.

They exchanged glances and Kensi immediately turned the car around. She hit the gas and they sped back to the house. "Oh this is not good," Deeks said as they rounded the corner.

"Eric," Kensi turned on her earwig as they got out of the car, "We've got a situation here."

The speeding vehicle was parked half on the driveway, half on the lawn, it's doors flung wide open. LAPD officers were spilling out into the yard, guns drawn, their attention on the house.

"NCIS," Kensi held up her badge as they approached. "What's going on?"

"Two suspects were seen ripping off a hardware store. Identified as Tomás Alvarez and Jose Mendoza," the officer told her.

"We just interviewed someone in that house," Kensi told him. "She might be a hostage. This is part of our case. We're going to need control of the scene."

The officer raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? I don't think so. This was an LAPD pursuit. We're not turning it over to you in a hostage situation."

"Hey Kyle," Deeks finally appeared. "Come on. Just give us a shot."

"Deeks," the officer's eyes turned cold. "You look…terrible."

Deeks wasn't deterred. "Come on man. We both know you owe me."

The officer glared at him. "Fine. You've got ten minutes. And then we're going in."

"Thank you," Deeks told him.

Kyle walked away as Deeks and Kensi checked their weapons. "You really didn't make a lot of friends at LAPD did you?" Kensi asked.

"No, but they sure owe me a lot of favors," he told her as they moved toward the back of the house.

"Your social skills need work."

"Right back at you."

"How do you want to play this?" Kensi asked.

Deeks glanced around. "Window?"

Kensi followed his gaze. "Yeah." She went first, hoisting her self up. Peering inside and seeing no one she pulled herself in through the bathroom window.

She turned around to give Deeks the all clear but before she could an unfamiliar male voice spoke.

"Don't move."

The voice was tinged with panic and caused Kensi to grimace in frustration. Apparently she hadn't been as quiet as she thought.

"Tomás I want to help you," she said, still frozen in place. "I'm an NCIS agent. I just want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk!"

Kensi moved slowly, turning around so she could face him.

"I said don't move!" The man's eyes were wild with fear, a gun shaking in his hand.

"Tomás, where is Jessica?"

"She's fine!"

"I can't help you unless I know she's all right," Kensi said calmly, all the while praying that Deeks could hear what was happening.

Tomás thought for a moment. "Give me your gun."

Kensi reached slowly for her weapon and tossed it toward him. "Take me to Jessica."

"Go on." He waved her out of the bathroom, following close behind.

Jessica sat on a couch in the living room, tears streaming down her face while a second man, presumably Jose, pointed a gun at her.

"What the hell is this?" he asked.

"Caught her crawling in the window," Tomás said.

"Jessica, are you all right?" Kensi said, ignoring the two men.

She nodded silently, her eyes still trained on the men's weapons.

"She's NCIS," Tomás said.

"Look, I just want to make sure everyone gets out of here okay," Kensi said, her eyes catching movement behind Tomás.

"We don't need your help," Jose told her. "Get rid of her."

"LAPD!" Deeks yelled. "Drop it!"

Both men wheeled around and gunshots filled the air.

Kensi dove for the couch, throwing herself over Jessica. "Get down!" A bullet streaked past her head and into the couch and she flinched. "Deeks!"

The front door burst open and LAPD officers flooded into the room. Kensi looked up to see Tomás on the ground, an officer cuffing him. Jose appeared to be dead.

Deeks, holstered his weapon. "You good?" he asked.

"Yeah, you?"

"Not really how I wanted to spend my afternoon but I'll get over it."

"Thanks for the assist." Kyle walked toward them as two of his men dragge Tomás out the door. "We'll take it from here."

"Assist?" Deeks asked. "I didn't see you crawling in a window."

"Like I said, thanks. You should go take some Dayquil or something."

"Tomás is our suspect!" Kensi said hotly.

"I'll tell you what. You can take the other guy. Fifty/fifty split." He smiled and walked away.

Deeks and Kensi looked at the body on the floor. "Damn it!" Kensi said.

"Just, give me a minute. I'll see what I can do."

"No, let it go. We'll just…get Hetty on it. Come on."

* * *

They returned to OSP to find Sam and Callen had beaten them back. "Nice work," Callen said as they walked in.

"LAPD was all over it. There was nothing we could do," Deeks said wearily.

"Aren't you LAPD? Isn't it your function to liaise for us?" Sam asked.

"Why don't you tell us how you've helped today?" he shot back. He suddenly didn't feel like putting up with their crap. It might have had something to do with the ache in his skull that refused to go away.

"Whoa, somebody's cranky," Callen said.

"I don't like being shot at. Or crawling in windows." He walked toward the couch. "I've done my duty. I'll just be over here." He collapsed into it face first.

"Any luck getting through with LAPD?" Kensi asked.

"They've got Tomás so far into the system he might as well be halfway to China right now," Callen said.

"Not so fast Mr. Callen," Hetty said as she appeared. "You're underestimating my powers. He's waiting for you downtown Mr. Deeks, Miss Blye."

"Perfect." Deeks groaned and shoved himself off the couch.

His whole body felt sluggish. The world seemed hot and cold at the same time. His stomach twisted painfully. "We'll uh…we'll…"

"Deeks? You all right?" Callen asked.

"I…" Standing suddenly seemed exceptionally difficult. As he fell he managed to catch himself on the corner of Callen's desk, which blessedly only sent him to his knees instead of onto his face.

"Whoa!" All three agents moved at once.

"I'm good." The words came out as a grunt and he attempted to push himself up with no success. "Just…maybe a minute."

"Deeks, you need to go home," Kensi said as she touched his arm.

"Yeah…okay." That seemed like a good idea. His foggy brain desired nothing more than his bed right now.

"Miss Blye, perhaps you should take Mr. Deeks home as he seems a bit incapacitated right now," Hetty said.

Kensi shouldered Deeks' weight and began walking him out to the car. "You are going to owe me big time," she told him as she shoved him into the passenger's seat.

Deeks put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes as she drove, discomfort evident on his face. Kensi glanced at him worriedly. "You okay?" she finally asked.

"Yeah," he said. "No. Pull over."

"What? Why?"

He blanched and she complied immediately. Deeks practically fell out of the car. By the time she got around to his side he was doubled over vomiting. "Oh my god." She bent to help him when he'd finally stopped. "Are you all right?"

"Peachy." He groaned as he straightened. "I didn't like my breakfast anyway."

By the time they got to his place, Deeks was so pale he looked ghostlike. Kensi got him inside and he trundled slowly toward his bed. She couldn't just leave him like this. "Do you have a thermometer?" she asked.

"In the medicine cabinet."

She retrieved it and returned to find him struggling into bed fully clothed. "Here," she said lamely, shoving it at him.

He stuck it under his tongue, his eyes glassy. She could see sweat beading on his forehead and felt a twinge of guilt for not noticing earlier how sick he clearly was.

When the thermometer beeped a moment later it read 102.3. "That's pretty high," she said. "We should try and get it down."

"Nah, that's okay. I kind of like it there," he told her as he closed his eyes.

Kensi ignored him. Sometime later she would examine the sudden and intense desire she felt to help him, but right now she was just going to do what needed to be done. She went to the kitchen and located a bottle of Gatorade and towel, which she dampened and brought back to him, along with a bottle of ibuprofen. "Can you sit up?"

He struggled to do so, eventually managing to get himself in a semi-upright position. She handed him a couple of pills and then the Gatorade. He sank back against the pillows and she handed him the towel to put on his forehead.

"That's a start anyway," she said.

"You don't have to stay," Deeks said with a shiver.

"I'm not leaving you like this. You can't even stand up. You'll die and by the time anybody finds your body the whole place will stink."

"Gee, that's a comforting thought. Your bedside manner needs some work," he mumbled.

Kensi watched the tension in his face ease as he fell asleep. Monty wandered into the room and she scratched his head as she watched her partner's chest rise and fall. Deeks was right. She should leave. They were just partners after all. She didn't have a responsibility to him like this. But somehow, she just couldn't leave him. Not like this.

* * *

Deeks woke slowly, his whole body aching and cold. His tongue felt swollen and his stomach felt like it was full of knives. He heard movement nearby and blinked several times, trying to get his bearings. "Kensi?" His voice was croaky and pathetic.

"Hey." She appeared in his field of vision.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"About an hour. I made some soup. Are you hungry?"

"You cooked?" he asked in confusion. Maybe he was having a fever dream.

"I wouldn't exactly call _Campbells Chicken and Stars_ cooking. You should try to eat. If you don't want soup I can get something else."

"No, soup is fine."

"I'll be right back."

Monty jumped onto the bed and put his head on Deeks' stomach. Deeks lifted a hand to pet him. "Hey buddy."

The dog eyed him worriedly. "It's okay. Kensi's going to feed both of us." Deeks winced. "Which may not be the best thing now that I think about it."

"I heard that," Kensi said as she returned, soup in hand.

She sat on the bed and picked up a spoonful of liquid. "Are you going to feed me?" Deeks asked.

"You're the one who can't get out of bed," she pointed out.

"I can feed myself."

"Okay. Go for it." She held the bowl out.

Deeks lifted a shaky hand and the bowl tipped dangerously. Kensi reached to take it back. "Maybe just for today," Deeks said.

"Good choice."

She lifted the spoon to his lips and he accepted the warm liquid. "Are you feeling any better?" she asked, trying to dispel some of the awkwardness and ignore the voice in her head that whispered that this was an extremely intimate action.

"I'm perfect. This is all an act."

"Deeks…"

"I've been worse."

She suspected that was a lie. He looked half dead.

He managed to eat about half the soup before refusing anymore. Kensi set the bowl on the nightstand and put a hand on his forehead. "You still feel warm. Maybe I should take you to a doctor."

"No, it's just a stomach bug." His eyes were already closing and within seconds he was asleep again.

Kensi watched him worriedly for a few minutes before taking the rest of the soup back to the kitchen. Plopping down on the couch she turned on the TV and flipped through the channels until she found a rerun of Chopped.

There was a sudden sound from Deeks' room and Kensi hit mute. It happened again and Monty barked.

Kensi walked into the bedroom to find the bed empty and the bathroom door partially open, light seeping out through the cracks. "Deeks are you okay?"

There was a horrible choking sound and Kensi pushed the door open to find her partner hunched over the toilet, emptying his stomach of the soup he'd just eaten.

She stood helplessly as he retched. At last he finished and spat, trying to clear the acrid taste from his mouth. Kensi grabbed his arm as he stood. "I'm okay," he croaked.

He took a step toward the door and then gagged, clamping a hand over his mouth. He turned and went right back to his knees in front of the toilet, heaving once more. At last the let out a moan and curled up into a ball on the floor.

"Deeks?" Kensi asked tentatively.

Another moan. "Deeks, do you want to get back in bed?"

"No," he said. "Just leave me here."

Kensi gingerly used her fingertips to flush the toilet and then sat down next to him on the floor. "I'm not going to leave you on the bathroom floor."

"You'll get sick too," he said.

"No I won't."

She hesitated for only a second and then slid closer so she could put his head in her lap.

"What are you doing?" he asked looking up at her with bleary eyes.

"Taking care of you," she said.

She began to run her fingers gently through his hair. He closed his eyes. "That feels nice."

Her hand brushed against his forehead and she frowned. "Your fever's still pretty high."

She reached for the damp towel that had landed on the sink and began running it over his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, any inch of exposed skin she could find.

He sat up suddenly and was back over the toilet, puking his guts out. Finally he collapsed into her lap. "I think I'm dying," he said.

Kensi continued her ministrations, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "You're not dying. I won't let you."

"That's comforting." He shivered.

"Maybe you should take a cold shower."

That got his attention. His eyes opened and she quickly explained herself, "For your fever. To get your fever down. Do you think you can stand up?"

He managed to get to his feet with her help. He grunted as he attempted to strip off his t-shirt and she moved to help him before she thought, pulling it up and over his head, then averting her eyes from his bare chest. "I think I've got it from here," he said, clutching the wall for support.

"Okay. I'll be right outside."

Deeks emerged fifteen minutes later, his hair still damp, wearing the clean t-shirt and boxers she'd tossed through the door. Kensi stood up from where she'd been waiting anxiously on his bed. "Hey, you made it."

"Yeah." He winced as he took a step toward her and stumbled.

She caught him and helped him back into bed. "I feel like crap," he said when his head hit the pillow.

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. Then she asked the question that had been bothering her since she'd watched him empty his stomach on the side of the road. "Deeks why didn't you say something? Why didn't you tell us how bad it was?"

"And get called out as the weak one on the team? No thank you," Deeks shivered and pulled the blankets closer. "That happens enough as it is."

"No one thinks you're weak."

"Please. I've seen the way everyone looks at me. Like I'm the class clown. You're all just waiting for me to screw up and send me back to LAPD."

"No one—"

"Kensi, I'm not really up for a fight right now."

"Then let's not have one," she said. "I can't speak for Sam and Callen, but I'm not waiting for you to screw up. You're my partner. I have a lot of faith in you. I trust you."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Thanks."

She looked at his pale face and felt a swirl of worry. "I really think we should take you to see a doctor."

"No, I don't want to. You can take care of me." His eyes slid shut.

"I appreciate your confidence in my nursing abilities but I'm really worried about you." She pressed a hand to his forehead. "You're not getting better."

"No I am. I'm perfect. Just give me five more minutes."

The last words were mumbled as he slipped away into sleep again.

* * *

Deeks woke with a start, blinking against the light. He still felt like crap, but slightly less like crap than before.

He moved to try and push himself into a sitting position and his hand brushed something soft. His dog lifted his head and nuzzled closer to him. "Hey boy."

"Hey, you're awake," Kensi said.

She'd pulled a chair next to his bed and was holding a James Patterson novel his mom had given him for Christmas three years ago.

"How are you feeling?" She put a hand on his forehead. "Your fever is down. How's your stomach?"

"Slightly less churn-y."

She handed him a glass of orange juice. "Drink. You don't want to get dehydrated."

Deeks took a sip and Kensi reached for one of several pill bottles she'd placed on his nightstand. She shook out two and placed them in his hand. "Take these."

Deeks looked at them skeptically. "Did you and Monty become drug lords while I was sleeping?"

"Darn. You've found us out. Now we have to kill you," Kensi said as she scratched Monty's ears.

"Ah, bummer."

"And just when we'd nursed you back to health."

"Which I appreciate, by the way."

"Guess I missed my calling."

"Well I'll support you if you want to change careers."

"I think it might be a little late for that," Kensi said. "Guess you're stuck with me."

He smiled. "There's no one I'd rather be stuck with."

* * *

A/N: Leave your love in the reviews!


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